


The Process of Falling

by killaidanturner



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Biblical References, Biting, Blood Drinking, Established Relationship, M/M, low key smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5318501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killaidanturner/pseuds/killaidanturner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitchell tells Anders the story of Lucifer.</p><p>“Lucifer meets a creature with eyes as dark as his and the creature asks Lucifer, ‘do you love me more than God?” to which Lucifer replies, ‘loving you is idolatry.’”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Process of Falling

**Author's Note:**

> it's exactly what the summary is. a short ficlet in which I parallel Anders and Lucifer.

“Then wilt thou not be loath  
To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess  
A Paradise within thee, happier far.”   
― John Milton,  _Paradise Lost_

* * *

 

“Are you familiar with Christian lore?”

 

“I’m not even fucking familiar with Norse, what makes you think I would know anything else?” Anders sometimes wonders if Mitchell even listens to him on the rare occasions where he does talk about himself.

 

“Well there’s a story.” Mitchell is turning on his side on the couch to face Anders, his gloved hands coming up in front of him.

 

“I already don’t wanna fucking hear it.” Anders takes a swig of his beer and leans back into the couch cushions.

 

“I’m going to tell you anyways, it was about how paradise was lost.” For a moment Anders lets himself think back to Mitchell before he was how he is now, back when he was human and sitting in his home listening to his mother tell him stories about god. He wonders if her hair was a dark, her lashes as thick. It's in this moment that he allows himself to think this that he realizes he wants to know about this part of Mitchell's old life. He takes in a deep breath and wriggles himself deeper into the cushions.  

 

“Wasn’t expecting anything less.” Bragi was already fully aware of Mitchell from the moment that he said that there was a story, humming loudly in the back of Anders mind. He picks at the label on the beer bottle as he listens to Mitchell’s melodic tones.

 

“God created Michael, his first son. He ensured that he was filled with a holy light that burned. When God created Lucifer he took him to Michael, and he told Michael, _‘this is your brother, you will have brothers after him but you will love him the most for he was first._ ’ Michael thought that it was the cruelest thing that was ever asked of him for he did not know of Lucifer’s ways. How Lucifer loved the word _‘mine’_ , of the implications behind it, how it was a great and terrible thing. How Lucifer’s hands knew that they could create, knew that they could tear apart wings feather by feather until there was nothing left but blood. 

 

Gabriel and Raphael were born, Lucifer loved them as well but he realized how easy it was to lie to them. Angels weren’t supposed to lie so Lucifer left. He was creating words that did not exist yet.

 

Others would say that he fell, though Lucifer had supposed that was the correct word for it, for there was no soft place for him to land.

 

He finds a garden filled with hope and light, a place to remind him of home. A word that he never uses again. A slip of the tongue. Lucifer watches the garden where a girl lives, and her eyes shine bright. They remind Lucifer of Michael’s. And for that Lucifer wants to break her open, he wants to spill into her the knowledge of evil. He offers her an apple and watches as she chokes on the core. He imagines it’s Michael, that he is coughing up ash.

 

Michael goes to his brothers after this, and tells them, _‘there is going to be a war and none of us are prepared for what it will unleash. We were not made to be weapons, we were not made to fight our brother.’_

 

It’s in this moment Michael wishes he could tell their Father, _‘I’m sorry I could not love him the way that you wanted me to.'_

 

The younger angels grow, they don’t remember a time before the war, before paradise was lost. Michael loves them for it, he wants to keep them this way.

 

When they meet on the battlefield for the first time Gabriel shines bright, his words mighty, _‘I do not know you anymore, you are no brother of mine.’_ And Raphael hides amongst the ranks of the infantry. Raphael was made to mend broken things but he did not know how to mend Lucifer.

 

Lucifer had tried to entice them, to tell them of the creatures of his new kingdom, how their skin was mixed with salt and rain and how their hearts sang.

 

He could see how his brothers pitied him.

 

Michael descends upon Lucifer, _'let this place collapse around you and you may come home.'_

 

Lucifer laughed at this, wildly, until he was sick and aching with it.

 

Michael was not the brother to drive the sorrow from Lucifer's eyes. 

 

Gabriel was not the brother to chase away the hurt through laughter and divine words.

 

Raphael was not meant to mend him with his skillful hands. 

 

Eventually Lucifer had forgotten why it all started, why he began this, what the whole point was. All he remembers if fighting, all he remembers is the battlefield and bloodshed. He remembers Gabriel’s face turned away in disgust, Raphael's eyes guarded. He remembers Eve’s mouth filled with ash and black ink.

 

The war drags out, there are slow days and on those days Michael sits beneath the tree of knowledge watching his brothers in the garden, and at times he can hear Lucifer’s laugh coming in whispers as he watches his brothers.” Mitchell’s eyes are soft as he finishes the story, brown, wide, and almost filled with grief. Anders' fucking hates them. He looks away and sets his beer down on the table before looking back.

 

Anders' eyes narrow on Mitchell, there’s a stone weighing heavy on his chest, “that’s the worst fucking story I have ever heard. Just for that you can sleep on the couch tonight.”

 

Anders lays wrapped in cold sheets, his eyes wide as he tries to stop his hands from trembling. He can see the faint glow of the TV turn off from out in the living room. Mitchell’s feet are silent against the floor. The door creaks open and Anders doesn’t say anything but Mitchell knows that he’s awake from his uneven breathing.

 

Mitchell slides under the sheets and immediately pulls Anders frame against him. Though Mitchell’s hands are cold as they run up the side of Ander’s ribs it seems to have stopped him from shaking. Mitchell leans down and kisses his shoulder then moves to his neck.

 

He doesn’t say _I’m sorry,_ he knows that Anders would just prefer that the stupid fucking story never happened.

 

“You didn’t let me finish the story.” Mitchell places his lips on Anders' spine.

 

Anders arches back into him and closes his eyes. “Fine, tell me the rest of the fucking story but I’m fucking you after.” He needs Mitchell, but he would never say the words out loud. It’s his own way of asking Mitchell to stay in their room tonight.

 

“When the other angels would try to ask Lucifer if he misses the place where he was created he would never let them finish, he would always reply, _‘no, never_.'” Mitchell is slowly rutting against Anders, moving his hips in slow motions as his hands grip Anders' wrists.

 

“Lucifer meets a creature with eyes as dark as his and the creature asks Lucifer, ‘ _do you love me more than God?'_  to which Lucifer replies, _‘loving you is idolatry.’_ ”

 

Mitchell is pressing his nose against Anders' neck as encouragement and with one more thrust of Mitchell’s hard cock pressed against his ass, Anders relents, he tilts his head to the side in invitation.

 

He would take this instead, take this distraction to not think of the implications of Mitchell’s words. Of things like worship and love.

 

Mitchell’s teeth sink into Anders flesh, he can never take back the way he tears his skin open, how copper fills his mouth. Mitchell pulls blood from him, blooming red and over flowing. He relishes in how fast Anders' heart is beating, how his words caused it to beat quickly against bone. Anders lets out a sinful moan before he lets his mind go blank with the high of Mitchell against him, and he thinks to himself that there’s still such a thing as paradise.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I don't know a lot about angels so just like roll with whatever I did, its a fic. 
> 
> follow me on tumblr at [killaidanturner](http://killaidanturner.tumblr.com/)


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